The Hand That We Are Dealt
by rageofcaliban
Summary: In a world increasingly more volatile in the wake of Voldemort's revival, many take sides in the war to come out of principle, while others merely do what they can to survive. For both Draco Malfoy and Mira Vinter, they are seemingly without a worry being Purebloods where such a status is championed and yet, it isn't always quite so simple - especially when romance is involved.


**The Hand That We Are Dealt**

 **.**

"Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are."

― _Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince_

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The light filtered through the tree branches, leaves shifting from their accustomed green to rich shades of vermillion and amber. All that could be heard amidst the grove were the rustling of the decaying autumnal leaves and the silent weeping of the grove's sole visitor.

I sat at the base of a large Ash tree restraining my tears as I resigned myself to having to leave for another year at Hogwarts. It was not as though I didn't enjoy my time at the school, or the friends that I shared it with, it was rather the case that it was _yet another_ year I would have to spend without my father.

A large gust of wind swept over me, rousing me from my reverie – memories of late night strolls, rambling conversations, and the warm welcome home of both mother and father.

It was just my mother that I felt I truly had left. Whilst I did have a large extended family, after living away from them for most of my life, I felt as though they were merely infrequent visitors in my life. And while the thought often left me feeling slightly disheartened, I had always been slightly detached from it all, even before the death of my father, and another year at Hogwarts didn't seem to signal any change from this.

As I lifted myself from the spot beneath the large Ash tree, I brushed off my pants and preceded to take the few steps needed to reach the seat of the modest gravestone. Without saying a word, and in one movement, I placed a sprig of forget-me-nots on the top of the headstone. I had thought about lingering, just that little bit longer, but I had to move on. Move on from the past. Move on towards the future.

The path out of the wood was short and beautiful, giving me what would be the last views of the Norwegian countryside I knew I would have for a long time. The lush, verdant hills transforming themselves in the wake of the changing seasons from summer to autumn, the flurry of birds overhead, and the small gusts of wind that rustled the trees lightly. So, to preserve it in my memory, I willed myself to properly look at the nature that I often felt I had overlooked before I was made to live in London – and bustling Muggle London at that.

Just as I had reached the back of my family's large ancestral home I hesitated and, in taking one last, deep breath, continued up the wooded path and in through the back doors of my 'sometimes-home'.

Making my way through the long passage through to the bright lounge room, I was met with the back of my mother stood looking through the large windows at the vast hillside. Her dark brown hair now speckled with grey shimmered slightly in the sunlight whilst she, seemingly unware of my presence, continued to stare almost as if in a trance. Not being able to help myself, and knowing very well of my mother being incredibly jumpy, I began to make my way stealthily towards her. I couldn't stop the smirk that etched itself onto my face as I stalked behind her. Stretching out my arms and placing my hands on her shoulders, I shouted, "BOO!".

She let out a deafening scream that had me wondering for a moment if I really should have shocked her quite so much. But, admittedly, this regret was short-lived when I came face-to-face with my mother's face. The bulging of her hazel eyes, the expression on her face flickering between shock and amazement, and annoyance and exasperation. I couldn't help but chuckle at her then; her usually sombre lips giving way to a pout whilst she – very dramatically – clutched at her chest.

"Cyka!", she half yelled. "You scared me half to death. What were you thinking? And, where were you?". She paused suddenly, letting out a huff, before crossing her arms across her chest shifting her face back to her usual one of cool indifference before continuing. "We really need to be leaving. You need to catch the train by 11am and we're still in Norway of all places".

Chuckling at her ramblings, I was reminded how much I would miss her when at Hogwarts. What I wasn't going to miss though, was the scowling face she was pulling right now as she waited as if for a response.

"Okay firstly, you know that you can't swear at me in Russian because when half of your family is Russian, you do tend to pick up a few words here and there", I replied, snickering.

"You know a lot more than just 'a few words here and there' and you know it", she interrupted. "Besides, I wanted you to hear it. I got called a lot worse when I was your age by my parents, and we all know that's just how we Gagarin's show our love", she stated in an off-the-hand way.

I smiled at this. It was true that that was our sort-of mother-daughter rapport, and had always been that way since we were not the most openly affectionate pair. My grin faltered slightly though, turning bitter-sweet when I was reminded of the truth behind my mother's words. Whilst the banter we shared was purely a way of showing love, my grand-parents did not have such kind intentions, that was for sure. They were harsh and, whilst not cruel by any means, cold and often detached from both their children and grandchildren. They were a strict pureblood family, much like many others, spouting out traditional and outdated ideas of blood purity and the like. I was frankly glad that my mother had gotten away from them when she did and married my father.

Whilst he was a pureblood too, albeit from a Norwegian family, he was what one could call a 'blood traitor' – someone who didn't believe that any person was truly superior due to their 'magical blood', if you can even call it that. He sympathised with all kind, and thankfully came from a more liberal family that allowed him to question the unquestionable – something my mother did not have for much of her life. I often thought that such liberal beliefs would surely have turned off my grand-parents, but it was probably something they were willing to ignore considering he was still deemed to be a very worthy match for any pureblood, half-blood, or muggle-born for that matter. As a wealthy heir to a stately pureblood family, Christoffer Vinter was surely a catch and had he not fallen for my mother – Karina Gagarin – I would have very much thought he would have been one of the few to openly defy expectation and marry someone 'completely inappropriate'. I internally eye-rolled at this, but the thought of him deliberately rebelling against set norms out of spite sounded very much like the father I knew and loved.

"Secondly?", my mother questioned in her pleasant Russian lilt.

Suddenly remembering I was only half-way through answering her many questions, I replied. "Oh… Yeah – _secondly –_ I just couldn't restrain myself from scaring you, it's just too easy. Besides your reaction was priceless", I countered with a half-cocked smirk. "And where was I before? I was visiting dad's grave before we had to leave. I figured seeing as neither of us will be back here for a while, I thought I should visit while I still can."

A melancholic look seemed to struck my mother in that moment but it was quickly replaced by a sympathetic smile as she returned a look towards me.

"Have you paid your respects then?", she asked, clearly hesitant to press the issue at hand now knowing the real reason for my 'disappearance'.

"I have. And everything is packed and ready in that god forsaken trunk", I informed, giving a light kick to the sturdy chest as I recalled the agony – even with magic – of packing and repacking just to make sure everything was there and fit.

"Good. We need to go. It's already past 10 and, whilst my apparating skills are quite spectacular –

"Spectacular? Really?", I laughed.

"Yes, spectacular", she echoed with a look I would say was purely mock haughtiness had I not known her to be quite the prideful woman. "Whilst you did get much from your father, and he was a brilliant wizard, I would have to – humbly, of course – say that you got most of your ability from me."

"Of course, how could I have thought otherwise", I replied, smirking. "But yes, I know we need to get there quickly. So…" As I trailed off I placed my hand into hers. Smiling in return, and after I grabbed hold of my trunk, we disapparated in a moment.

.

.

.

"I'll send Magnus later, okay? You really are airheaded sometimes, aren't you?", my mother scolded as I waved her goodbye and got onto the train, standing in the doorway only a few minutes before departure.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure he won't hold it against me though, considering he is only an owl", I stated sarcastically. Giving my mother one last smile, I began to make my way through the train to find a place to sit as many made their last hasty goodbyes through the windows of the train's compartments.

I walked through the narrow corridors, squeezing past those that stood to one side and peered into every compartment quickly, looking for any of my friends. I was quite insistent on finding someone before I resigned myself to sitting alone or worse still – being forced to sit with a bunch of Gryffindor 5th years like the year before. For the whole trip, I was compelled to listen to their greatest Quidditch moments; one-upping each other in an attempt to impress me, I think at least. It didn't work though, of course. One thing that I just couldn't ever find myself liking was Quidditch, something I told them but clearly fell on deaf ears. It was for that reason that I made my way through the train in hopes of finding someone before being stuck for an hours long journey from Kings Cross Station to Hogwarts as captive audience.

I passed countless compartments before I thankfully spotted the twins, not five steps away sitting next to each other both reading, of course. I smiled at my friends' predictability. Always, without a doubt, could Regan and Ren be found reading, whether it be Muggle, Wizard or otherwise.

I continued walking towards them before placing my trunk on the rack overhead, and plunking myself down across from them, wondering if they would even notice my being there. It was relatively loud where we were seeing as it didn't have the privacy a compartment had and whilst I didn't mind this at all, I often wondered how they could still be reading as deeply as ever. Lo and behold though, Regan – over the top of her book – finally broke the silence.

"Took you long enough to find us. You didn't just get onto the train, did you?", asked Regan as she placed her book down, pushing her straight dark hair behind her ear.

Through a slightly guilty smile I retorted, "I mean, I got here on time, didn't I? I just had to do something back home – took a little longer than expected that's all. Norway isn't even that far away rea—

"Norway? You were in Norway? I thought you were still living in London", interrupted Regan.

"Oh, I still live in London most of the time but over the break my mum and I spent a bit of time back home. Saw some family, went to see my dad, just sort of get away from it all for a bit. It's actually pretty relaxing and quiet. It's nice, really, you two would like it. It's perfect for you two bookworms."

"That does sound pretty nice. We went to back to Tokyo over the break to see family, and it was nice and all, but pretty …unrelenting", added Ren with a slight grimace making its way onto his usually stoic face. I gave a small chuckle at that, knowing full well what those two were like, and whilst they weren't exactly unsociable hermits or anything, one thing they didn't like was hanging out with a lot of people. I couldn't even imagine how they were when forced to be with a large amount of family, unable to get away.

Regan, in giving a knowing smirk, added, "Well it was actually not that bad. We both got to go sightseeing and brought you back a present by the way", my face lit up at that, excited for whatever they had gotten me while she continued. "But like Ren said, it was pretty 'unrelenting'. More your speed then ours I would think. It seems like we really should have swapped. You could have taken my place, and me, yours".

I laughed a bit at that. It was true. I did like the faster paced sort of life, and both Regan and Ren would have possibly appreciated my holiday more than I did but I could tell that they both actually liked catching up with their family. Whilst they were both pretty aloof and outwardly apathetic, they have always been incredibly close with their family, a fact that left me slightly envious.

"What! You would swap with Mira and I would be still stuck there, without you?", Ren huffed, seemingly put out at the idea of his sister leaving him alone.

"I'm honestly hurt, Ren. Wouldn't you have fun with me? And I thought we were close", I stated in mock hurt.

"Not what I meant, Mira, but…" Ren trailed off, with a smirk plastering his face that now both brother and sister shared.

"Well I was going to suggest that we visit in the next holidays but now, I'm not so sure. If _Ren_ doesn't feel like I'm fun enough". We all let out a short chuckle before I was startled by the tuft of white-blonde hair just over my shoulder. I gave a long sigh, preparing myself for whatever Draco had to say.

"So, Vinter – or is it Gagarin? I never quite know what to call you", the Slytherin asked teasingly.

"Mira would do, Draco," I replied, making a point to call him by his first name, something he didn't often get by anyone except his closest friends. It was something I liked to think was mutual respect we had between us for the last few years. No matter that we were in different houses or whatever, we had always refrained from last names, probably because we both knew how annoying it could be to be seen for one's family rather than as an individual. Whether or not Draco would own up to this, I knew he felt the same way; simultaneously honoured and burdened by a name.

"I know, I know. So, what brings you here, Mira?", he asked, gesturing to the rest of the train with a slight tilt of the head as he held onto the back of my seat, kneeling on his with his chin sat on the thick, plush cushioning, eyes watching me.

"Well… I do plan on going to Hogwarts for another year. This is what this train is for isn't it? I didn't happen to catch the wrong train did I", I responded, sarcastically. I knew full well what he meant but loved to stir him up.

"Very funny. I see you haven't lost your sense of humour then. What brings you here, though? To this part of the train. Is it that you have all decided that us purebloods should stick together? Malfoy's … Akiyama's … Vinter's…". I gave an exasperated sigh knowing full well that he was dredging up the single, but glaring thing that we could not agree on. Draco, sensing my annoyance, and instead saving the conversation for later I would guess, knowing him well enough. Instead his eyes lit up and I knew the conversation was heading somewhere else, although not somewhere I was exactly excited to explore.

"Was it me, then? Did you miss me that much that you chose to sit here, right behind me? Honestly, I can understand the appeal but you didn't need to go to such lengths for my attention", he cockily asserted.

"Of course, you've hit it the nail right on the head. I'm desperately in love with you and I've just been wondering if Mrs. Mira Malfoy or Mrs. Mira Vinter Malfoy has more of a ring to it. What do you think?", I mockingly questioned, in a sickeningly sweet tone.

For a brief moment, Draco didn't respond and I thought that maybe my sarcasm just didn't quite come across, but surely it had. Who in their right mind would be that forward and obsessive? I looked briefly back to Regan and Ren and saw that they had smiles on their faces, and something else I couldn't place and I would have to ask them about later. While they seemed to be getting a little more enjoyment out of our conversation than I could understand, at least I knew that they didn't fall for what I thought was an obvious joke. Just before I broke the silence, thinking that I had to awkwardly explain myself and wonder if Draco really had lost his touch, he looked back at me with an all too serious expression.

"Well I'll leave the name to you. What I'm more concerned about is where we would live. I mean, we could live at the Manor and have your home in Oslo be a sort of Summer home of sorts. Sound good?". Draco's grin just got wider and wider and I honestly couldn't help but burst out laughing. This conversation had just gone … weird.

"I'll leave the details to you, Draco", I responded, slightly flabbergasted that he went along with it, and a little too seriously for my liking. I turned my head back to my front, looking at my friends who had seemingly returned to reading. I knew all too well that they were listening though. I could still feel his presence though behind me, and knew very well that – superior git that he was – you weren't finished until he was finished with you. I turned my head around then, and with an eerily serious look rivalling his own previously, I attempted to end the discussion.

"Well, there is one thing I have to get off my chest though. I mean, if we are going to get married after all", I requested. Draco's grin didn't fade, but he kept waiting, oddly silent for the usually talkative person he is. "I've been thinking and the one request I make is that our daughter or son has to marry someone I choose. I'm thinking a lovely muggle-born, or even better, just a muggle. That way they can truly experience it all. Don't you think?"

Draco's smirk gave way to a grimace after that, something I knew would happen. As much as I appreciated whatever sort of friendship we had between us, what I could never understand was his obsession with blood purity. What allowed me to somewhat ignore it though, was an understanding of how he grew up. I mean, I didn't know him as a child or anything, but having grown up as a pureblood – even when my father and mother were quite progressive – if my mother's family could prove anything, it was that after growing up being taught one thing … you begin to believe it. No matter how absurd or wrong it may be, even in part, it sticks with you. I saw it in my mother from time to time, no matter how hard she tries to overcome it. Sometimes…its inevitable. Unavoidable. Draco's scowl was enough for me to attest to this fact. That he had been brought up one way and I could hardly blame him for not having the power or courage to break free like some have done before him. His mother of all people would understand. The Black family may have been a very prestigious pureblood family, but that didn't stop both her sister Andromeda and cousin Sirius Black from abandoning it all.

While it left me a little more disheartened than I thought it would, I knew that I truly had put a stop to our conversation; our flirtation, if you could even call it that. In the very least, a harmless flirtation between two 'sort-of friends' never amounting to anything because, despite my sympathies, some things Draco did, I just couldn't overlook.

"Does that bother you? Well, sorry but that's non-negotiable. It looks like it really isn't meant to be. I suppose I'll have to pack away the wedding dress then. Woe is me". I returned to my normal sitting position, and could tell he had too. Although I wish he thought otherwise, that was unfortunately something he had to overcome, and I'm not too sure when that would happen. If it happened, that is. I was hopeful, though. That somewhere – within him – existed the capacity to think beyond his parents' prejudice. That within him stirred the faintest sliver of rebellion that didn't have him abandon it all like his aunt and cousin had, but had him dare to look beyond his ignorance. If I knew him like I believed I did, I knew there was much more to Draco Malfoy then he liked to show, and I hoped to see the 'true' Draco sooner rather than later.


End file.
